


A Court of War and Flames

by captainkilliansassjones



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-02 18:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14550573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainkilliansassjones/pseuds/captainkilliansassjones
Summary: An AU inspired by my amazing SJM squadPost ACOFAS, so be warned about spoilersThe dark presence that Morrigan stumbled upon was actually a portal opened by Queen Maeve. Against her better judgement, she passes through the portal and lands in Erilea, at the temple in Illia and is discovered by the thirteen, who are investigating, and is taken to the war camp in Terrasen. Cassian and Azriel soon follow, and within the camp at Terrasen, the two Illyrians discover more than they bargained for over four months they spend there.In Prythian, Queen Maeve hopes to recruit fae to fight alongside her against the Valg and the forces in Terrasen. With the cadre by her side, and with the heir to the throne of Terrasen in an Iron coffin, Maeve looks to win the war without a hitch - until she stumbles upon a High Lord and High Lady who uphold a certain moral code.Aelin Ashryver Galythinius waits for the day that she can take revenge on her enemies, and reclaim her kingdom. She fears all hope could be last, but what she isn't counting on is to find new allies at every turn.The war will rage on, and some will go up in flames





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, I know this is a hella weird fic but I dig the ships and the plot so here it is. Hope you enjoy it! Also, I named Asterin's wyvern the Welsh word for strength (according to google translate, sue me).

ASTERIN POV

 

Asterin let out a breath as she leaned her forehead against her wyvern, Cryfder’s, side. It had been months since the thirteen had left the Ironteeth clans behind for good. Months since this dreaded war against the valg had begun. So much had been sacrificed, and everyone who fought under the banner of the missing Aelin Ashryver Galythinius had thought the war was to be lost. That was, until, they arrived. The first to arrive had been Morrigan. She had fallen at the thirteen’s feet as she appeared through a mysterious dark portal they had found open in the temple in Ilium. She was clearly fae, from the pointed tips of her ears to her unearthly beauty, and from the second she’d laid eyes on Manon there wasn’t a witch in their small coven who didn’t understand what was happening. The leader of the thirteen had been defensive of the fae from that moment onwards, hissing at any who would dare look at her the wrong way. Manon had found her mate. Asterin was happy for her cousin, obviously, but it also caused an ache in her heart. Out of all of the Ironteeth witches, Asterin had been the only one to let emotion rule her heart. The only one to fall in love and dream of having a family. And the arrival that had come after Morrigan’s shook the foundations of Asterin’s entire world.

 

Cassian and Azriel had crashed through the portal a mere month after their friend, fearing for her safety. The two Illyrians had been so dedicated to finding her that they’d managed to track her all the way to the warcamp in Terrasen, where they were now stationed. At first, Cassian had been aggressive while Azriel remained in the shadows of every room, observing them all from afar. Nothing ever came of Cassian’s rage until he had turned it towards Morrigan, which instigated a fight between him and Manon that had almost destroyed the camp. It was only hours later, when Asterin found the angry Illyrian sitting in the woods alone, that she realised her heart was once again in trouble.

 

_“You’re lucky to have lived through that fight, from the look on Manon’s face. Had Morrigan not intervened, you’d have been food for the Wyverns,” Asterin said as she leaned against a tree, chuckling to herself. The Illyrian merely huffed in response from his spot upon a fallen log. Taking this is a sign that he was no longer hostle, Asterin approached and sat next to him, straddling the log, “You understand that Morrigan would have come back to you if she hadn’t found her mate and joined our cause. The war we face will make or break this world, and a fighter such as she is a great asset to us against the Valg”. Cassian breathed deeply before looking at her, “What’s the point in us fighting for your world anyway? Seems like a lost cause to me”. Asterin ground her teeth together, glaring at the grown fae before her who was acting like a child,“What issue do you have against this world Cassian, because from what Morrigan has told me, your world is far from perfect,”. Cassian clenched his jaw and took a deep breath before meeting her eyes with his, “My issue isn’t that Mor has made the valiant decision to save yet another world. My issue is that all she had to do was come home, tell us, and we could have been here helping alongside her. All I’ve seen in your world so far is suffering. Demons running amuck, nations brought to their knees - and an army which, in all honesty, is barely a fucking army. What’s the point in living if all my life is ever going to be is watching the suffering of others and losing the people I love. What is the fucking point”. She watched as his head fell into his hands and his wings stretched out, his breathing ragged from stress. They remained in silence for a short while, and her heart began racing as she thought over what he had said. And as she thought more and more, a thumping in her head began as her own rage over the state of her home world increased. Her mind flooded with the pain she usually kept contained deep within her, and there was nothing stopping her from blowing up. “I know the dire state that this world is in, Cassian. I have been fighting a long time to change it. This world has never known peace! It’s people have never known peace! I have never-” She paused, digging into the side of the log with her iron nails. “I am of a cruel people who drink the blood of men for sport and hunt down another race of witches because of a centuries old, petty feud. I have lived a life long enough to have loved and lost, and to this day that loss is a heavy burden on my soul. All of us who live today fight so that those of tomorrow may finally know peace. I fight for the world I would have wanted for my own child. So do not dare, Cassian, judge this world for its failings. For we are trying to remedy them, and it seems that the gods themselves work against us” Her breathing was just as ragged as his as she stopped herself from going on, the beginning of tears gleaming in her eyes. His face was shocked, to say the least, but beyond that Asterin could see empathy. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could reply, she stood and walked away. ‘To hell with him’, she thought to herself._

  


Since that day, she and Cassian had seemed to gravitate towards each other against their will. Whether it be during dinner at the camp, or during training, or on missions- the witch and the Illyrian would be by each other’s side. They’d spend late nights by the fire trading war stories, speaking of their people and eventually, when they had built up enough trust, their pasts. And now, as Asterin breathed and leaned against her wyvern, a realisation settled in her mind. As soon as this war was done, whoever won, Cassian would leave her. Either for Prythian, or for death. And she prayed that the gods would choose his homeland over the latter. Her time spent with Cassian was the lightest her soul had felt in years, and from the way he acted around her, she knew he felt the same time. But from fear of further loss, they remained partners on the battlefield and no more. The pull between them was strong, but not strong enough to overcome the fear she felt as she faced nightmares of his death at the hands of the Blackbeak Matron. And so, she kept her distance whenever it came to the lingering stares, or when his hand gently brushed against hers. She ignored any sign that showed something was growing between them. He too, seemed hesitant whenever their conversations would grow quiet, and so they would trade more stories and share more drinks, and return to their own respective tents at the end of every night.

 

“Asterin,” A voice called, startling her, “are you alright?”. His warm brown eyes searched her own glittering black ones, resting a hand upon her shoulder. “I’m fine Cassian. Cryfder here seemed agitated and so I was trying to calm her,” She replied, shrugging. He replied with a curt nod and “They’re such interesting creatures. Their wings remind me of my own, and you all claim they are blood thirsty, but it seems as though they are far more docile than my people,” he paused, smiling at her, “And they seem smarter than the average Illyrian male”. She chuckled, raising an eyebrow at him, “And I suppose you believe yourself to be above average?”. He returned her laugh and grinned his signature, animalistic smile, “Oh Asterin, I’m well above average. I’m a prime Illyrian male specimen. Hell, compared to most males, I’m a god”.

He removed his hand from where it had been resting on her shoulder, signaling towards the entrance of the Wyvern enclosure, “Join me for dinner?”. She nodded, smiling, and watched as he momentarily rested his other hand on Cryfder’s side, observing the now sleeping beast. She mirrored the movement, her hand resting beside his. Her eyes met his again as his thumb slowly caressed her hand, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. She then realised his eyes had moved to look at her lips, and panic set in as he leaned in closer.

“DINNER!” She exclaimed, barging past him. “What?!” He asked, turning to look at her with shock painted across his face. “We,” she paused, breathing deeply to calm herself down, “are going to be late for dinner”. She left him behind in the enclosure as she made her way to the tent where they all took dinner together. By the gods, the fae bastard was going to kill her by the way he made her heart race.


	2. Mates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manon and Mor and the looming issue of their mating bond, featuring fluff and smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this, feel free to leave me some feedback!

Manon x Mor

Her heart was beating so hard against her chest that she thought it would break right through her ribs. The months she had spent in Terrasen since falling through the portal had been stressful, to say the least, but this moment had been the worst of it all. Manon Blackbeak, heir of the Blackbeak Clan of Ironteeth witches, sat across from her with a fork in hand. In the tradition of countless mates before them, the offering and acceptance of food would be a sign that the mating bond had been accepted. And so, Morrigan prayed that Manon would consumed every bite of the meat pie in front of her. They were inside the wing-leaders tent, a cramped space with a table, two chairs, and a bed. The small space between them didn’t do much good for Mor’s heart rate.

In the four months that they had spent getting to know each other, she had learned there would never be a dull moment with the leader of the thirteen. Some days were spent swooping through the skies on Abraxos, gathering intel for the troops, and other days were spent training other warriors to fight, hoping they’d be a fraction as good as the fae or the witches. But the best days were those spent enjoying each other’s company, peeling away at each other’s walls and cementing their place in each other’s hearts.

Manon had been fiercely protective of Mor since her arrival, against every basic instinct she had. Iron Teeth witches were taught to be cold and unfeeling, to act only with cruelty and duty. However, Manon and her thirteen were learning to be different, and so the witch immediately latched onto their bond. Both of the females were hesitant around each other, having faced heart break and outer threats that made them fearful to love, but the connection they felt was one to rival the magic buzzing throughout the universe. They complimented each other as though they were the sun and moon, Morrigan’s warm light contrasting Manon’s cold splendour. She had even taken to calling the thirteen Manon’s stars, which usually caused the wing leader to grumble in the face of such affection. But even Manon would eventually admit that it was true, because the thirteen were the only light that she had left in her life before the arrival of her mate.

 _Mate._ The word made her heart soar as she smiled across the table at the witch. She had learned so much about her after piercing through the cold front Manon used as a shield, and saw the strong creature beneath. Day by day, she had learned more about Manon’s past, and vice versa. She learned of the death Manon had caused, and how she was now trying to pay for all of the lives she had taken. Manon learned of the pain Mor had experienced, but also of the joy she had in her life in regards to her family. Manon was one of the few people to see Morrigan as more than a wounded bird with irreparable broken wings. She saw more than what caused the fae to toss and turn at night. Morrigan admired that quality in the witch. Her ability to see strength over struggle. It had been even more apparent when Mor had met Abraxos, a Wyvern who was never supposed to be able to fly. When her eyes met those of the wyvern, it felt as though they were kindred spirits. _Dreamers born into courts of nightmares._ Manon had simply kept her distance that day, but Abraxos’ approval or her mate caused her to smile briefly, before returning to her usual neutral expression - any affection was saved for the private moments she’d later share with Morrigan.

And so now, months later and fork in hand, Manon delved into the pie and devoured it, every bite more fulfilling than any drink of blood had ever been. The hunger Manon had always felt dulled, but as she stared at her mate, she realised it wasn’t quite sated. A primal urge began to scream at her to move, and from the way Morrigan’s eyes mirrored her own, she knew the feeling was mutual.

Once the plate was cleared of every last crumb, Manon didn’t hesitate to leap over the table and crash her lips into Mor’s. The fae immediately kissed her back, dragging Manon over so that the witch was straddling her lap. Their breathing was heavy as Morrigan rested her forehead against Manon’s, the two exchanging smiles. “I’ve waited for you for so long, Manon. And you are worth every second of the wait,” Mor breathed, which spurred her mate into action. They made quick work of each other’s clothes, crashing into the nearby bed and into one another. Manon made quick work of driving Mor to the point of ecstacy, every touch desperate, as though she was a man dying of thirst who had been dropped into an ocean of clear waters. Morrigan was far more gentle, every touch, caress and stroke more precise. Manon braced herself against the fae from her spot atop her as Morrigan’s free hand pleasured her, the other hand gripping Manon’s hip. The witch’s breathing became ragged as she reached her climax, kissing her mate deeply as she let the deliriousness flow throughout her body.

The two of them spent hours repeating the act, hours during which Manon was forced to kick out every member of the thirteen who came looking for her. Mor would merely laugh at the overprotective witch, until she herself thought one of the thirteen was eyeing up Manon, causing the fae to finally experience the aggression and jealousy that all newly mated couples faced. Once all possible intruders had been thoroughly dealt with, they retired to their cramped bed and traded the stories they were yet to share. Morrigan told Manon of the beauty of Velaris, of the people who resided in the city. She told her of her family who remained there, her cousin Rhysand and his wife Feyre, and her friend Amren. Manon told Mor about the Blackbeak Matron, about the choice between her duty as an heir and her cousin’s life. The witch gripped the fae’s hand in hers as she sighed slowly, and spoke. “Before you, Morrigan, love was a foreign thing in my life. At most, it was something to twist and manipulate in order to reach my goal. But now I know. Now, I understand why my cousin was ready to sacrifice everything for it. Love. I-” Manon paused, meeting Morrigan’s eyes with her own, “I love you. I love you with every inch of my poisoned heart. And I deeply believe that you are the cure I have needed all of these years, Mor”. A tear trickled down from the corner of Mor’s eye as she leaned in to kiss Manon again. “I love you too,” She whispered as they rested their foreheads together. She lifted her hand and placed it on the left side of Manon’s chest, tracing her collarbone with her index finger. “Your heart isn’t poisoned, Manon. Its simply fractured, as is mine. And together, we will heal,” the fae smiled at her mate, who’s only response was a low chuckle. They fell asleep there, in each others arms, a symphony of calm breathing and a dreamless sleep, free of nightmares.

 

***********

  
A voice pierced through the silence of the night, “Let go of me or by the gods I swear I will maim you!”. Manon shot up from her bed, one hand on her mate’s arm and the other on a blade that had been concealed beneath her pillow. The two of them dressed quickly as they sprinted out of their tent to investigate. Manon hadn’t even needed to see who it was screaming at this hour, as the voice had became very familiar to her. As they reached a nearby clearing, Elide Lochan stood with a look of sheer fury on her face. Gripping her shoulders was Azriel, one of the Illyrians who had come in search of Mor. Manon forced herself to remain calm as he shot her mate a small smile, the aggressive protectiveness of having being newly mated still fresh. “I’d suggest you take your hands off of my fellow witch,” Manon said through gritted teeth as she clutched Mor’s hand. Azriel took an abrupt step back, causing Elide to stumble forward. As they had arrived, it appeared as though the Illyrian had been pulling the girl toward himself, but both Manon and Morrigan were quick to figure out he was actually keeping distance between himself and Elide. However, ever the gentleman, Azriel caught Elide before she could fall flat onto her face. The dark-haired girl huffed as her cheeks turned red, and stormed away from the two fae and her wing-leader. Azriel turned to look at Morrigan, and then Manon. Slowly, he gave a small nod, and then paced off after Elide.

Manon moved to follow, but Mor tugged on her hand. The fae female was smiling, causing Manon to raise her eyebrows in inquisition. “I don’t have to worry about him _at all_ ,” Morrigan laughed, “Elide seems to have him wrapped around her finger”. Manon rolled her eyes as she led her mate back to their tent, ready to use up their new found energy.


End file.
